


Home Safe

by LePetitChouNerd



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination, Ciphers, Depressing, Espionage, Patricide, Spying, Violence, first kill, mention of slavery, problematic characters, slavery tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePetitChouNerd/pseuds/LePetitChouNerd
Summary: A short on Cassian Andor's first assignment as a fulcrum initiate of the Rebel Alliance. Read tags for warnings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I'm new to Star Wars fandom, so I apologize in advance if I botch Star Wars universe details. I browsed through all of wookiepedia and tried to get to know it, so hopefully this works.

_“Anytime you hear them, just count. Under three, run away away. Over five, you’re home safe_ . _”_

All Cassian could remember were desperate words whispered into his ear and strong arms carrying him through a cloud of dust. Twelve years later, he hadn’t any images left of the memory save for the hard grain of sand filling his lungs, the screeching drummed into his ears, and the taste of metal in his mouth. Sensations guided him through. Sensations and desperate words always made sure he made it home safe. This time? He wasn’t so sure.

He sat on the bar and leaned low into his drink. The dim lighting played around him, casting him in a shadowy veil of smoke as he waited. Every time the band reached a refrain in their musical score, he took a long and hard sip. It was his rhythmic ritual - a language spoken by those who didn’t want to be heard.

“You look a little too young to be drinking that.”

Cassian looked up from his drink and turned to find a woman seated next to him. She carried a rather wide grin, with her elbow planted on the bar and head rested on her gloved hand. He immediately scanned her up and down for some sort of clue: traveler’s clothes - worn out and dusted in sand. She had obviously just come in, and it seemed things such as cleaning up at the inn or getting refreshed from what he could only presume was a hard day’s work were not as pressing as the need to talk. So talk he will.

“What I drink and how old I am when I drink it is none of your concern.” It was truthfully his rehearsed response. He’s had older civilians come on to him on one of these assignments before, and although they encouraged him to _blend in_ \- that’s what the captain called it - he was never much for that kind of fraternization.

She said nothing but a soundless laugh, swaying her head a bit before turning to the barkeep. “A shot of Rhodian spice for me and my friend,” she said casually.

Cassian scoffed, a little shocked she elicited from him any kind of reaction. “Friend?”

The woman slid the glass to him before lifting hers in the air, as if in some gesture of a toast. “To friends?”

The young man did nothing more than shrug, going along because he might as well. They both down the liquor, letting its heat spear through their throats before they slammed the glass hard on the bar. A silence draped over them after this one moment of a shared drink. As a young recruit, his job was to lay low, and so he did just that. The woman, on the other hand, stared relentlessly at him, watching as he kept his eyes low onto the emptied glass. The din of the bar took over their conversation, and for Cassian, nothing more was left than to wait for the right words.

“The pilot from Onderon came in over the Western docks. He’s looking for a freight carrier on his next Rhodian spice shipment.”

Cassian jumped from his seat. He heard them. He heard it. Widened eyes and a twitch of his lip almost betrayed him.

For her part, the strange woman glowered, however subtly. She said her piece, and in turn he evinced a look of utter bewilderment. Either he was a traitor or not at all her “man,” and something must be done about that.

But the moment her hand reached into her waist belt, digging into her coat, Cassian knew the series of events he had just triggered. So he was quick to rectify it. This was his first mission on his own, after all. Things had to go better than best. Things had to go perfect or all else fails.

“Tell your pilot he’s home safe.” Like clockwork, he mimed the words taught to him - words mouthed in a unique set of inflections to form a cipher discernible only to some. The woman smiled again, seeing that she was, after all, not mistaken.

“I’ll send your regards.” Her hand reaches out to him, and Cassian knowingly takes it. Outwardly, they looked as if they were business partners shaking hands. Yet from her glove, he felt a small, device - a memory unit - transferred over to his sleeve. He had it. His first assignment.

“Easy on the pilot,” she murmured after dropping some credits on the bar. The Ithorian bartender nodded his head in gratitude. “Hyperspace can be bumpy at first.” And with those parting words, she walked away. Cassian barely had time to look up from his glove when he realized that she had already melted into the swarm of bodies populating the cantina. Aliens, humanoids, humans all crowded around, and the one source of guidance he would’ve had left him with nothing more than a repetition of ciphers.

 

* * *

 

_“We’re looking for a man named Andor.”_

_“He’s not here. He’s gone.”_

_“Check the house.”_

_“Please!”_

_“Who’s that?”_

_“He’s my son.”_

_“Take the boy.”_

_“Wait! Please! Stop! I’ll tell you everything. Please! Just don’t take my baby.”_

 

* * *

 

Cassian rose from sleep with a sharp breath. His lungs took in the sting of cold air, heaving against the blistering winds of the desert mountain. Across from him, the fire already waned into listless embers, fighting against the vehement winds.

He combed his hands through his ruffled air, feeling the knots pull against his scalp. His shoulders trembled in the cold, a little shocked and frigid from hours spent under the harsh light of the stars. He saw nothing in the darkness save the the horizon and its bulwark of looming jagged mountain peaks. It all seemed ominous, enveloping - if not altogether frightening. There was something about being a mere _dot_ \- a speck - in the vastness of a planet, and even something _less-than_ against the galaxy that sprawled out about him. The expanse itself seemed to seep into his skin, to stretch him beyond what he could comprehend. And so Cassian did what had always worked. He closed his eyes, buried his head in his hands, and started to count. _One… two… three…_

Familiar words started to echo a remembered sense of calm. _“Anytime you hear them, just count. Under three, run away away. Over five, you’re home safe_ . _”_

And so he continued. _Four… five…_

“Safe,” he said aloud. He raised his head from his hands and looked once more into the expanse. The darkness seemed less looming. The winds seemed to calm into a dying howl, alone and lost in the wilderness.

“I’m glad you’re awake.”

He rose in a jolt, scrambling out of his bedroll and onto the rough sand. His hand immediately reached out for his blaster pistol.

“Relax!” She stepped out of the shadows and onto the dying light of the fire. Even through the darkness, he could see the familiar leather vestments and worn out hood she donned for the cantina earlier that day.

Cassian shook his head, rolling his eyes somewhat. “They didn’t say I’d have a babysitter.” He didn’t even bother to ask for an explanation or as to any justification for why she would be prowling about rather ominously in the shadows. This could all only mean one thing: they didn’t trust him.

“ _They_ didn’t say as much,” she replied nonchalantly. She casually threw a pack onto the ground and kicked it towards him. “You got the message, I’m assuming?”

He instinctively reached into his breast pocket, feeling for the microchip that carried the details of his first assignment.

She took his gesture as an affirmation and continued,“So you know how important this is?” As if to emphasize just how critical his role in it was, the woman took off her hood, revealing nothing more than a face smudged in dirt, and a mess of hair tied in a bun. She let him study her face, know what she looked like, and search - however dark the night was - for details that might be worth remembering. Things like a mole, a snaggle tooth, or even as subtle as a freckle could mean the difference between friend or foe. It could mean life and death.

Cassian couldn’t say he’d seen her before, much less think he knew her. A plain face, sunkissd and tawny skin used to the dust of desert planets, and eyes that bore no light. Strange. He could’ve sworn they told him of every agent in their unit. So why bring in an outsider? It was all not really making any sense.

“Important enough to throw at a recruit.” His sarcasm hit a tune with her. He could tell because it made her chuckle. Still, not even a hint of mirth could distract the recruit from his rather critical situation. “Who are you?”

“For now,” she began as she knelt next to the pack and rummaged through it. “You may call me Selalis.”

“Selalis? _Just_ Selalis?” Cassian was careful to show his skepticism. But this... Selalis paid no heed.

“Your mission, Recruit Andor,” she barked out as she searched through the pack, removing pieces of what Cassian could only guess was a weapon.

“Target identity unknown. Alias Casani Fentig. Human. Woman…” He recited the details in a nonchalant voice, demonstrating his capacity to retain anything and everything crucial to a mission. “Estimated age of about forty-two human years. Target was a weapons dealer and smuggler under the Alliance.” Then he paused. His eyes traveled to the weapon Selalis was building. Even in the dark, it shone something menacing. “However, a recent reconnaissance team discovered she was a mole working for the empire. The mission is to extract information on her contacts and network. Upon retrieval of this information, target must be neutralized at all costs.”

The sharp clasp of the barrel connecting to the blaster punctuated his speech. “Excellent,” she said, lifting with her arms what Cassian could only presume was the weapon for the deed. Selalis rose to her feet and ambled towards the recruit’s bedroll. But as he lifted his eyes to look at her, he couldn’t help but notice the flicker in her eyes. His hand went for the blaster pistol near his belt.

“Uh-uh!” Selalis immediately aimed the rifle at him. He could hear the gun click, ready to kill him from where he sat. His hands immediately went up to the air, demonstrating another instinct he learned from years of battle. “This my friend is the A280-CFE blaster. It is about ten times deadlier than any blaster rifle and has the range of up to two thousand meters.”

A loud, thrumming beat from within Cassian’s ear. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. It took his all to stop his shoulders from trembling. He sat stock still, arms level over his head, and he stared the woman to her eyes - dark and ready to drown him with the fear she hung over his head. “What are you doing?” he muttered right away.

“You have much to learn Recruit Andor.” The wind howled after her, and a low dust settled in over the camp. The final embers of the campfire died, and soon they only had the two moons and the stars around them for light. “You barely even know me, and yet you debrief me with your mission.”

The younger man swallowed a gulp. He could feel an itch in his throat.

“What if _I_ was the spy? Do you know how you could’ve compromised us?”

 _Shit_ . Cassian did not answer. He knew _now_ of his slip up. Although the mission itself was a mere test, he should’ve known better. Nearly twelve years of fighting, sabotaging, training for espionage, and _this_ is where he’d fuck up? He could barely look her in the eye. Something about it seemed horribly anticlimactic if not inexplicably frustrating. A thought chanced through him that maybe… _maybe_ … he can make his case for her.

But before he could act, Selalis let out a soft guffaw. Her shoulders shook slightly as she drew the gun away. “Re- _lax_ kid.” She clicked the safety back on and went to his side. Her footsteps crushed the grains of hardened sand as she walked towards him. Face to face, she knelt to keep their eyes level.

“That’s one lesson learned Recruit Andor.” A smirk finished her sentence, leaving the boy utterly puzzled.

“You won’t…?” He stammered upon hitting the word. Just saying it seemed to tempt fate itself.

She got up with a sigh, audibly exasperated and ready to get going. “Listen kid…” She paused to collect her pack on the ground and swung it over her shoulder. “You have a good instinct. You code your words well, and I’ve never heard anyone pull off crypt-inflections like you do.”

Cassian was not at all used to praise. So he sat quiet, waiting for a harangue or some other sort of gun to be waved at his face.

“But you got a lot to learn. Talent learns. It’s not born. That’s why you made the mistake.” Selalis then stomped onto the campfire. Though it had already fizzled out on its own minutes earlier, she clamped hard with her boots and grinded the ash to the sand. If she was anything, Cassian thought, she was thorough. “And you’ll never make the mistake again.” Her eyes fell on him, steady and relaxed compared to before. Yet she stood half turned, as if pointing to a place… a _path_ from which he could continue his learning.

“Yes ma’am,” he managed as he stumbled up from his bedroll.

“You all packed?”

“I travel lightly.”

“Good.”

 

* * *

 

_“Take this.” A rifle dropped onto his tiny hands. The weight of it made Cassian stumble forward. “Don’t be scared.”_

 

_“I’m not scared papa.” His fingers clung to the trigger. His other hand steadied the barrel. Somehow, it didn’t feel so heavy anymore._

 

_“Aim it at the chaakrabbit by the brush.”_

 

_Little Casian held the rifle the same way he saw his father hold it. Propped on the ground, low against the sand, and hands steadier than untouched water._

 

 _“It looks docile. It looks innocent. I know. But we’re killers Cassian. We always will be_.

 

* * *

 

The cargo freight jolted against the rocky terrain, bumping up against some jagged boulders. The impact shook the passengers inside. The movements swayed Cassian onto the protective metal around his seat. The pain was enough to wake him from a rather deep sleep.

Seated across from him, Selalis held him in an unapologetic gaze - scrutinizing and piqued based on the relaxed smile she wore. “You talk in your sleep, you know that?”

He didn’t actually. It wasn’t like many bedfellows stuck around long enough to tell him. Yet even _that_ kind of answer didn’t seem necessary, and so he met her sally with silence. Hopefully, the swaying of the vehicle could rock him back to sleep.

“Can I tell you a story?” The smirk remained, and something about it told Cassian that he really had no choice in the matter. So he kept his mouth shut tight as before. She _was_ his commanding officer after all.

“My father was a slaver. A big time one,” she started, not at all relenting on the knowing smile. “He focused on Wookies, so even with lots of travelling, we managed to make a life out in Kashyyk.” At this point her eyes lowered to her hands, flat on her lap.

The revelation hit a nerve with Cassian. He too looked away, unable to stop himself from accusations and remarks knotting in his throat. A slaver. A daughter of a slaver. What was _she_ doing with the Rebellion? Questions amassed in the spare moments it took Selalis to continue her story.

“True enough I didn’t like it. But what little girl liked seeing things in chains? Anyway,” and she laughed a bit to herself, finding the lip service rather empty to her listener. “My father had a favorite. A young Wookie who refused to do anything.” She then turned her head towards the light. Its dim, sickly pallor over the cool greyness of the cab seemed to stir her thoughts, because it didn’t take long for that eerie smile to come back. “He wouldn’t speak a word, wouldn’t murmur a sound, but he would take a beating. And the only way we knew he was sentient was the way he winced after each strike.”

A sick feeling welled in his stomach. Something stinging, something hot, like seared flesh seemed to make itself felt throughout him. Cassian bit down on his tongue and kept his mouth completely sealed. He didn’t dare close his eyes lest he imagined the very image of a Wookie, silent in his suffering, showed his pain through a mere flinch.

“I used to watch with my father. Standing right beside him.” Selalis kept her eyes fixed on Cassian, unwavering and unrelenting in the austere brutality hinging on her words. “Then one day, I heard a noise.” The recruit, suddenly sick from the motions and the shaking of their vehicle, kept his eyes to his feet. “A scream, a yell… some butchers would call it a death rattle. Maybe that’s why it was the cook who told me to go up and ‘check on my papa,’” she paused to chuckle at the remembrance. But the pause seemed to halt momentum. Her words trailed there, and soon she forgot her audience. Selalis leaned back on her seat and stared into the cramped abyss of the dimly lit cab.

Cassian leaned forward, surprised by the quiet.“Then?”

“I saw my father holding these… forceps… and that same quiet Wookie, staring into nothing, beaten to the floor, scars lining his face...” A sadness seemed to envelop her words, but her lips still curved upward, delivering her story with some bittersweet hint of irony. “I knew what those forceps meant. I saw them do it to so many other slaves, but for some reason…” Her hands clutched tightly at the fabric of her pants, threatening to distress the leather further. “For some reason, I couldn’t stand to see him do it to _that_ Wookie, the quiet one, the one who never said a word. It seemed so wrong. Beatings were fine, but the forceps? It seemed so wrong. The Wookie chose to be silent. He at least chose how he would suffer, but I knew what they were threatening to take away. Animals never get to choose after.”

Somehow, the cryptic conclusion of her story was enough, for Cassian breathed hitched breaths in a way that showed he understood. His eyes sunk low to his own hands, pondering the weight of her words and the image of a silent Wookie choosing how he would endure. All around them, nothing but the loud whirring of the engine and the tires of the freight hitting rough soil disturbed their silence. Yet even then, it all became white noise.

“I killed my father.” Selalis suddenly spoke up, tearing what she thought was her ending. “I shot him in the back. He left his blaster on a bedside table. I couldn’t let him do it.”

Cassian immediately looked up, faced her, and then he realized that the sickness - whatever unnerved feeling gnawed at him - came too from some knowledge that he saw this ending coming.

For her part, Selalis just kept to herself. “Everyone has had fathers, daughters... even emperors probably had their lovers. But that doesn't mean they get to live. That doesn't mean they get to live while everyone below them feels the weight of their boots trampling down. _We_ don’t get to live knowing we’re letting slavers trample their boots on slaves. This. This lesson you learn in your assignment."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you think. That's always appreciated. I will post the next and final chapter soon!


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